:: Thursday, September 12, 2002 ::

"There's no such thing as the real world..." (John)

I had a rather depressing revelation the other day in Spanish class. Professor Seeger asked, "¿A qué hora es tu clase favorita?" I couldn't answer. I don't like any of my classes this year.
I am an entirely visual learner; I learn next to nothing when I'm only hearing information. The lecture format is the worst possible for me. However, all my classes this semester consist solely of professors droning on and on and on. And on. It amazes me how very long 80 minutes can be when sitting in a chalk-colored classroom listening to irrelevant information that never ends.
I'm always tempted to run out screaming, "I can't take this anymore! I refuse to be a victim of education any longer! End, oppression! Open, prison gates! Let me learn and grow and discover, but good heavens, please don't make me go to class!"
One professor in particular is obviously wooed by the sound of his own voice. After talking for 1-1/2 hours about something we will never use, how can he possibly wonder why we are all asleep? Without fail, I leave his classes with the firm conviction I have been wasting my time. I do not want to turn into the man, so I will never get anything out of his classes. I am constantly asking, "Why do I need to know this?" In his lectures, I am constantly answering, "I don't."

"Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact." ~George Eliot (props to Dan for also using this quote this week... more people should be aware of it.

My dream is to spend the rest of my life helping people; thus, my major is psychology. However, the useful things I'm learning are far outweighed by all the psychobabble and meaningless/ridiculous theories being taught. Why spend 3 sessions on proximal processes of development? When am I ever going to use it in this life?
So much stating the obvious... agonizing hours of study to confuse ourselves over issues of common sense. [blatant stereotype] Psychologists are so stupid. [/blatant stereotype] What, pray tell, is the point in comparing 15 theories on why victims of tragedy often exhibit sadness? I want to learn practical ways to help people. Apparently, such is not the aim of psychology.
I want to be a petroleum engineer. I want to be a neuro-surgeon. I want to be a politician. I want to be an archeologist. I want to be a cowboy, baby!
Thanks for letting me vent.

Labels: Yore

:: Bethany Bassett - 7:49 AM :: + ::